25 November 2011
This was perhaps one of the more low key Thanksgivings I've celebrated in 49 years.
My friend Brian and his sister Sally arrived as planned around 16:45, and I was just finishing up a crying jag with a friend in Mexico. I pulled myself together and we headed down to Mid-Wilshire and the Bounty. I'd called Ramon, the owner, earlier to make sure there was not a surging crowd ahead of us. Business there was steady, and my friends seemed to like it. I hoped Kapri would join us but she was deep into watching Guns N Roses videos njomrorrancyherself tomorrow.
As Thanksgiving 2011 passes into the history books, I sit at the dining room table; ostensibly proofreading my novel but distracted by web surfing Ralph Lauren and the Apple Store. My grandmother's mantel clock chimes the hour: it's trusty off-key chords recalling memory upon memory. A cat snores until my hand caresses his soft black coat. The flickering vanilla candle serves as a request to the universe for guidance, and its scent complements the bowl of Haagen-Daas Bananas Foster I've devoured. Peace wraps around me like a bear hug: then I remember something I forgot to do.
I assume that all of us have many challenges, fears and concerns that we keep to ourselves about these unusually fast times we are living in. Yet, we 'show up' here most days, sharing what is working for us, what milestones to recognize (or deny), soliciting opinions, laughing, supporting, looking to the future, and yes, recalling events, people and places gone from this dimension but safe and protected in the vault of our memory. Whether we share Texas, California, ancestors, descendants, exes, beds, crazy bosses, crazy co-workers, acting, writing, apartments, homes, enemies, Longhorns, Bruins, churches, covens, volunteer activities, secrets, Greek tragedies, happy endings or plans to rule the world, please know that I am extremely grateful for all that you bring to my life.